I resolved with her that Forward would follow the giving of gifts. Be it hearfore resolved I said allowed to her, That the New Year will be of constancy, forwardness, of you and me, of further and more and even deeper commitment though I know not how since you have all that I am.
She looked at my wordplay, the double meanings, herd each and every intent. I am and will be of her.
I did not invite her two match me. But I did for she is a big one in this deportment, this matching of commitment and the need to see and hear, here, of us to the exclusion of all else. It is welcome relief to have met her and great sweetness to be of her in this, and in all; to know her and be known, inside out, top to bottom, stem to stern. There’s no guesswork; only surety, certainty.
Later she rang me up. I nipped out she articulated in a line stolen from an author she taught me and I came to enjoy as much as she, and popped into a store only to discover the perfect dress for you to see me in.
Such welcome hubris! She dresses for me (and I for her), not because we have to, but because we want to. There’s nothing quite like getting dressed and moving through the world knowing that what you wear appeals (sometimes very greatly) to a mate, a partner, a cleaved gem of rare and perfect beauty, like she is. So yes, I cleave to the notion of presenting to her, and she to me, in wrappers carefully chosen to stir, to remind, to endear, to entice. At the center of me is her, and to see her is to be.
On this day of giving she is giving me a package. A whole package. A gift that is beautifully and perfectly wrapped. She is thinking of me. She is acting on my behalf, for me. She is giving me the greatest gift I will ever know: herself and her commitment to us.
I frankly admit that these words, these deeds, churn desire in me. Her taste, in my view, is impeccable. If she says there is perfection in my future I know she means it, that it is not hubris at all, that she is more right than I have ever known or expected to know. So I beg for photos, though it’s not really begging at all. I beg for description, the cut, the material, the shape and appearance, the colour, the nature, the designer’s intent, her presence, presents.
And she comes to me in this season of giving, and gives me more of myself than I knew I am. She gives me Forward and the perfect wrapping too.
I love you Darling. I love you very much. Now, let me dress. For you. 11 months ago